


Day and Night

by Kit_SummerIsle



Category: Transformers: Shattered Glass
Genre: M/M, Oral, Rape/Non-con - Freeform, Slavery, Sticky, sparks/embers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-16 13:09:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kit_SummerIsle/pseuds/Kit_SummerIsle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starscream had been captured by the Autobots and made Optimus Prime's personal pet/slave/toy. He is sometimes given to his mechs as a reward for a job well done. Skyfire gets him rarely, but he does now...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

> This story developed from a kinkmeme prompt which for some reason captured my imagination, even though I never before wrote Shattered Glass fics. Consequently there might be mistakes and non-canon things in it - I only know SG verse from fanfics, not the original canon.
> 
> The first chapter is pretty dark and contains graphic rape and slavery, but the rest will be a bit lighter.
> 
> The original prompt:  
> http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/11776.html?thread=13503488#t13503488

“You’ve done well Air Commander. He’s yours for a cycle.”

Optimus Prime thrusts a bound, winged frame forward, smirking dangerously, but for the moment not towards his Air Commander, who was surprisingly successful in eradicating another Decepticon stronghold. 

The large flier facing him bows low, giving him the obeisance he demands and deserves. Strong, black servos grab the smaller, lighter frame wobbling in the chains and falling towards him. He grips the white metals strong, denting it slightly, and thanks his Lord’s magnanimity.

“Thank you Lord Prime. I’ll enjoy your… gift.”

“See that you don’t damage it permanently.”

The mighty Prime is possessive of his toy. Not exclusively, as he gives it out for his mechs as reward, but he expects it back… if not undamaged, but at least in one piece.

“Of course not, My Lord.”

The black flier bows again and retreats from the dark, sinister chamber, dragging the smaller frame with him carelessly throughout the endless, dark corridors. There are no sounds from the bound mech, only the wheezing of damaged fans and the occasional clang when a dirty wing is banged on the corridor wall.

The huge door of the large flier’s quarters slides aside and he flings the captive in, smirking at the noise as he crashes into the foot of his berth.

“I’ll enjoy having you, Starscream…” He purrs deeply, dangerously as he steps in behind his plaything and the door slides close.

Starscream doesn’t move. He is far too weak and pained for any voluntary movement, starved and tortured all the time. His plating can be called white only because it was at a time such; but now it is scratched, dented, sullied mess only, grey-brown at best, bare metal at worst.

His servos and pedes are chained, the thick bands rusted onto his plating in the long captivity. He doesn’t hope a rescue for vorns, he knows that his comrades think him deactivated. He wishes to be dead for a long time. It is better than endless torture and rape he must endure.

His helm is forced up, cracked optics automatically try to focus to the dark plating in front of him, their faded blue light flickering weakly. He recognizes his user and sobs inward, the sound never emerging since his vocalizer was removed. 

The large helm descends on his and an aggressive glossa forces its way into his mouth, sharp fangs tear open his lips. The taste of his own energon renews the hunger and Starscream trembles, his empty tank rumbling queasily.

The dark helm kisses him for breems… if such an aggressive, dominating act could be called kissing and then lifts up and away again. The large servo tightens on his chin and the sinister, dark but brilliant red optics study him for another breem.

“You should have joined me Starscream.” He tells at last, displeasure is evident in the growling voice. “See where leaving me landed you…”

But he expects no answer. It is not often that he gets the captive Decepticon flier as reward, since Optimus Prime is hard to please and quick to punish any mistakes, but it isn’t the first time either. He knows that the Seeker cannot answer him. But he lets the smaller helm go and stands up, moving away.

When he returns Starscream trembles at the sight of the glowing cube in the big servo. He hasn’t gotten any energon for three orns by this time and he’s close to falling into stasis. He knows that he’d do anything for the fuel and the knowledge fills him with hot, dark, burning shame.

“You want this, don’t you?”

He can’t say it, but his shaking answers for him. Starscream looks up, to the dark wall of metal in front of him, but his gaze is on the small, innocently glowing cube in the large servo. Its pair takes his chin again, forcing his mouth open.

“You know what I require in turn.”

Starscream nods. He weeps inwardly, choked, desperate sobs that he cannot utter stall his vents, but he nods. He is not allowed to deactivate anyhow, the starving is just another tool to tame him. An effective one, he had to admit.

The cube is lifted to his mouth and energon is poured deceptively gently into his desiccated, sullied mouth and Starscream swallows convulsively, gulping the wanted, craved energon as it comes. He barely gets a few mouthfuls before the cube is taken away and his field screams for it, for more… but is rebuffed by the cold, dark malice permeating his aching frame.

“The rest is yours if you perform well.”

The servo leaves his chin but Starscream’s trembling frame is lifted up, onto his shaking knee joints and he needs all his remaining strength to stay that way. He puts shaking servos onto the dark thighs in front of him, his broken claws try to find the seams he should remember so well, to tweak the wires there. He scrabbles desperately, pain and hunger making it hard to concentrate, to properly please the bigger flier.

The dark metal shuffles closer and a large servo forces his helm forward impatiently. Starscream’s glossa sneaks out from cracked lipplates and licks the edge of the warm metal, his shaking vent breezing over the plate. He tries to perform now, imitate the acts of pleasuring, of interface… it is not one, he knows for all he wants it to be.

The warming metal slides away and the huge black spike rises half pressurized. Starscream lifts his chained servos to grip its base, his glossa curling over the swollen head. He fights with his disgust and the memories whispering him of times when he did this on his own… because he though that he’d loved Skyfire and the bigger flier loved him back.

But those times are gone. Ashen lips wrap around the spike’s head and Starscream does everything he remembers like an automaton. He licks and sucks and carefully grazes the remains of his denta – Optimus Prime is a hard master and punishes harshly any denta-marks on his spike – on the shaft, until it is hard as cybertronium and twitches in pre-release motions.

The servos tighten on his helm, drawing it down while the dark hips snap forward, driving the spike deep into his mouth, down his intakes. Gagging is not an option. Starscream relaxes his intake and tries to think of something else. He doesn’t have to do anything at this point as the dark flier thrusts his shaft into him, so he escapes into his memories. 

No, not of Skyfire. Those memories hurt, maybe more than what he is doing. Of flying… when he could still fly, when he wasn’t grounded, caged and chained as a berth toy. Of his trinemates who probably mourn him for dead, their trine-bond is firewalled by these Autobot monsters. Of Megatron, with whom he thought they might have something forming… before it all went wrong.

The putrid spike is ramming deep and with a roar scorching hot transfluid rushes down his intakes, nauseating and upsetting his nearly empty tank. All he could do is to hung limp in his user’s servos and take it, shaking and trembling. Skyfire thrusts in a few more times and withdraws, sitting back on the berth and dragging the unresisting Starscream between his legs.

He doesn’t wait for the order and licks the messy spike clean, the dark plating of the thighs from the splashed liquids like an obedient pet that he is. He cries inwardly all the time. He is drawing out the task, knowing what is going to follow. Skyfire is big. Has always been big, but it didn’t hurt back when he was considerate, gentle, pretending to be loving.

Now, with his cold, ruthless and dominating personality in full effect, with Starscream’s valve used mercilessly, torn, sore and only repaired as much as to not threaten to bleed out… now it is an agony every time. 

“Good… good little pet…”

The hated voice praises him from above and puts the craved cubed again to his lips, pouring a little into the eager mouth. Starscream gulps down the energon eagerly, washing down the foul taste from his glossa and satisfying a little bit more of his hunger.

Skyfire is a tiny bit easier to please, more willing to reward him with energon. Optimus Prime – Starscream trembles, the remains of his wings clatter fearfully as they too remember – is much harder, demanding, less given to rewarding his pet. Just like most of his soldiers. So he behaves and tries to get as much as he could from the one most likely to give.

He shudders and nearly chokes on the precious energon when a thought comes unbidden… is this what remained of the love? To be used slightly less ruthlessly and be rewarded for his humiliation? The shaking Seeker forces the thoughts far-far away. No. Don’t remember of love. Don’t. Please.

He is drawn up again, lifted by the giant flier easily, onto his lap, trembling knees straddling the thick thighs, the short chain on his ankles uncomfortably drawn taut behind his kneeling form. There is no need to remove or open his codpiece – he doesn’t have a valve cover for as long as he remembers being here. The servos poise him over the hard spike, the leaking head, glistening with his oral lubricant, teasing his entrance.

Or it would tease if he felt anything there at all. The outer sensory nubs are all but destroyed, the rim nearly continuously oozing energon from never healing tears. Automatically, he puts chained servos to the chest plates, finding the hotspots by ease of long practice. Skyfire likes to use him rough and demands to be touched during the interface. 

Starscream relaxes inwardly as much as he can, preparing himself mentally for the penetration. He can even be a bit thankful that Skyfire allows a little time for it…others are rarely even this considerate. The servos tighten on his hips and suddenly – always suddenly, roughly, painfully! – yanks him down, the spike impaling his dry valve in one ruthless thrust. 

Silent mouth opens to a voiceless scream, faded blue optics whiten out and his servos tighten on the angular cockpit’s edge. His valve is on fire, he is cleaved into two and the hard spike in him rams into his deepest nodes. Optics tightly shut, but some tears still force their way out of shutters, sliding down hauntingly on dark faceplates.

A big glossa licks them off and panting, breathless, cruel laugh reaches his audials. The servos lift him almost off the spike and slam his aching frame back down, plates throwing sparks on contact. Agony jags up, through his sensor-net again and again. His plates dent under the strong grip, adding to the pain.

His servos shake, the chain clinking rhythmically on the black chest plates but he moves them around, slides on the reinforced glass, finds the latch and trembling digits rub it between them. He must. He couldn’t even get lost in his own pain, Skyfire would be disappointed. And if he was, there would be no more energon. 

He leans forward, quivering glossa drawing a shaking path on the hot plates. He works now to take his own attention from the pain that erupts in his valve every time the spike rams deep. He tries to forget the screams that cannot emerge from his silent mouth as he drags the cracked lipplates on the glass.

But Skyfire, as always doesn’t let him hide. His frame is bent backwards, back-struts bowing under the strength of the huge servos. The angle changes and the pain grows. Then, a vicious thrust that makes him see stars, a merciless slam down from his hips and the spike erupts, jetting him full with transfluid that scorches and stings his sore, rubbed and raw valve walls.

He hangs limply backwards in the grip of the servos, teetering at the edge of offlining. Helm slowly falls backwards, nearly straining his neck struts. Painful, dented and torn wings hang from aching hinges. Vision hazes over with dark and his ember throbs in pain, sadness and betrayal. Starscream gives up. It is just too much to take and he seeks the momentary relief of unconsciousness.

He comes online as his frame is thrown down and the wings are jarred badly from the impact. The scarred hole where his vocalizer used to sit stings as he tries to groan in pain that comes from everywhere. There is hardly a place on his abused frame that does not hurt in some way. 

But his ember burns the worst, overwriting even the furnace that is his valve. It spins with disgust, love and betrayal, it wails with soundless screams and inner whimpers. Skyfire comes into his vision as he lays limp on the cold ground, the dark flier’s expression unreadable. 

He is lifted up then, not yanked roughly, but cradled into huge arms and settled onto the lap of the other. The still hard spike smears transfluid on his hip but Skyfire doesn’t require him to service it now. No, he is gentle and embraces Starscream’s trembling frame like he was a youngling, feeds him energon from the cube, letting him to finish it all and Starscream doesn’t question his luck, he drinks it greedily. 

Gentle digits stroke his damaged wings and it feels good even as it is painful. It is so rare that anyone touches him caringly any more that Starscream doesn’t question it… he just tries to feel it, enjoy it while it lasts… it never lasts for long anyway. Skyfire remembers that he is an Autobot and the touch becomes painful, rough again, gripping and denting already hardly working metal. 

He is pushed down suddenly, chained limbs snagging painfully on dark knee-joints, crashing him hard on the floor. His left shoulder vent collapses on the impact, the dented metal couldn’t take the last stress put onto it. Starscream curls up, agony shaking him again, sobs try to escape uselessly. 

No matter the energon, his self-repair has been glitched and cannot repair his injuries any more. He is sometimes taken to Ratchet or First Aid, but they only repair what is life-threatening and their methods are sometimes worse than intentional torture.

He lies in a crumpled heap while he hears and feels large steps move away in the room. He trembles again, not sure what Skyfire wants this time. The dark flier doesn’t like to use any toys or torture devices, but it happened once, so it is not out of question. But he was good… wasn’t he? 

Skyfire returns and grabs him up again, laying him on the berth, on his back and he’s even mindful of the tattered wings so they wouldn’t bend or snag. He straddles the smaller flier’s hips, but puts no weigh on the frail frame. Starscream stares up at him fearfully, the large servo hiding what he is holding over him. 

The servo reaches and Starscream flinches… but it grips the damaged vents, his strength more than enough to bend the metal back to shape. The metal flares in pain but it actually hurts less than before. Then the welder touches it with naked flame and is mouth opens again in a mute wail. 

The welder moves down, its flame licking his frame here and there and on its wake the gashes are welded shut, dents popped out. Skyfire works meticulously and silently, his usually malicious red optics are focused on the repairs. His large servos are surprisingly adept at handling the smaller frame and its injuries. The torn, bleeding valve is filled with healing foam from a tube, the burn abating somewhat as it starts to act.

The rest of the repair hurts of course without painkillers, but Starscream’s used to that and makes no move – he doesn’t want to snap Skyfire out of the repair job that he didn’t dare to expect. They are both quiet… well, he is always silent these orns by necessity, but even more so now, as he is turned over and the dark flier starts to work on his wings.

They are in a sorry state, as they’ve never been repaired before, the Autobot medics… sadists really, didn’t care about the extra work. Skyfire not only welds the injuries shut but also offlines the remaining sensors, basically cutting off any sensations from there. Starscream knows that he should be glad for this, but those remaining sensors were his last connection with flying and he couldn’t help but wail inwardly to loose them.

Optic fluid drips and gathers down under his face as his wings disappear from his sensor net. No matter how much he was grounded before this is the last straw. The Seeker offlines his optics and cries hard, not caring what it would cause to Skyfire, no matter if it angered him. He cannot help it.

“What is it?” The tone is angry, Skyfire is not pleased that Starscream doesn’t appreciate his repairs. 

But he cannot answer and hangs in the grip of the big servos like a doll, shaking and crying. Skyfire shakes him hard but he cannot answer just shrugs his shoulder, uncaring what is to come. He is as good as dead without his wings.

Skyfire throws him down and looks at him, brow-plates pulled together in a frown. Then, to his horror, the large servos force apart his chest plates, baring his ember. Begging blue optics look up but the red is undeterred, merciless. Digits so gentle a breem before now break the clasps holding his chamber closed.

The huge frame leans over him, covering him entirely, leaving no space to writhe or move. Black plates slides away, the armoured chamber moves forward and splits open. Starscream screams inwardly as his own is forced open, as the red ember descends on his golden one. It is as scarred and weak as the rest of him – Optimus Prime has never let a way go to defile and use him… hence the deep scars on his core, his very being. 

But Skyfire never before… well, never since it was consensual between them has tried to go for his ember. Ruby fire burns him as they touch, the forced merge is like molten metal over his core. Energies roil and throb into his chamber and he has to push them back or risk permanent damage.

It is a tainted exchange, Skyfire forcing him to feel his cruelty, his determination, his dominance. It is worse than with Optimus Prime, because Starscream remembers the last time they merged and the gentle, loving exchange between their willing embers. But the Skyfire now holds his ember, squeezes it, wrings it and takes whatever he wants. Gasped, rattled glyphs and feelings are forced through the unwanted connection.

Skyfire snorts within the agonizing maelstrom, realizing the source of his distress and tauntingly forces Starscream to feel him flying. The Blackbird soars high over the gutted planet, cutting through the smoke-clouds, playing amongst the electric storms. He fires on targets on the ground, obliterates them, his sick enjoyment is a taste of vomit in Starscream’s mind.

_Nonononononono_ … he chants, begs, whimpers but the dark flier is not letting him have peace. Energy slams into his ember, making it burn and flare. A turgid spike rams into his valve, the healing that’s just started is exchanged for burning agony again. He is impaled and violated in every way Skyfire could think of, thoroughly used and abused.

And all along he sends him pictures and feelings of flying, to taunt him and make him fall into the deepest despair. 

“Yes, my little Star, yes… overload now, I order you!”

He screams and is happy that through the link the other can hear its helplessness, its agony and despair, that it makes the large flier flinch at least a little. He sends back one picture, slipping it back to him, through the assault; a quiet moment of them, long-long gone, of peace and love and no demands or orders, only two scientists working and living happily together.

Then he shatters in the roiling energies, with the spike pumping him full of transfluid and the invading ember making him burn up within his own meta. But even through the overload, the agony and the haze, he feels Skyfire flinch again and a quick, easily repressed shot of guilt flashes over. Then it is silence and darkness again.


	2. II.

A pair of tiny optics, hardly bigger than a human’s eyes flash blue from a ceiling vent’s grate. Its owner shakes in horror, having arrived there a few breems ago, drawn to the Autobot Air Commander’s quarters by the lights spilling out so deep in the night cycle… and seen already far more he’s ever wanted to see. Not that a spy to the Autobot fortress can be faint in his ember, as most views in most rooms involve similar horror stories.

That the Autobots are monsters is no news for Laserbeak, the cheerful, music-loving spy has seen more colleagues and friends deactivated that any minidisk should see, but some things still makes his tank roil with disgust. What he is observing in the room below with horrified optics certainly qualifies.

The Decepticon Air Commander disappeared vorns ago and was presumed deactivated by his mourning Trine-mates and a sorrowful, broken-looking Megatron. None of Laserbeak’s or his brothers’ careful spying missions discovered any sign of him before and with time they all came to accept that the dedicated scientist and brilliant flier was… no more.

But apparently he is. If that broken, beaten creature, hardly recognizable down at Skyfire’s dark pedes could still be called Starscream… but Laserbeak doesn’t doubt. He knows now where the Seeker is and where he is going to stay until the coming day cycle… and that is more than enough time and more than just a slight chance with Skyfire’s quarters luckily opening to the outside of the impenetrable fortress.

Very rarely do they have any opportunities to rescue captured soldiers, friends, they usually perish all too soon in Autobot servos. The cell-blocks, the torture chambers and the smelting pits are all hermetically closed that not even the smallest Decepticon could sneak in there, much less a rescue party could enter and leave unscathed. But these rooms are as far from the center of the fortress as they could be, barely within the protective shields, next to a minuscule blind spot on them that lets the small spies enter unobserved.

The little flier extricates himself from the vents and flies back to the Decepticon headquarters with his top speed to give the news. It is hard to hold back Skywarp and Thundercracker just for the necessary few breems to formulate a quick plan. It is ember-breaking to see the pain that flickers on Megatron’s faceplates that he tries and fails to hide. But it is warming to see the dedication on every mechs’ faceplates to save Starscream.

They all feel that they’ve betrayed Starscream by giving up hope to soon… and now, after vorns of torture even if he’s freed is he going to be repairable in frame, ember or processor? Laserbeak doesn’t know. He chirps to Soundwave, but the always easygoing, cheerful communications officer is now silent and brooding, unable to answer to his young charge or calm his distress.

The rescue mission is swift and ruthless, the energon-stained frame of the huge Autobot flier left on the floor of his rooms, barely recognizable after the Seekers’ vicious assault. The fact that they had to tear his dark frame off of Starscream’s barely recognizable one, in the midst of the umpteenth rape might have had to do something with their unusual ferocity. They stare at the offline, broken frame in horror, hardly daring to touch it, unsure where to hold him that doesn’t cause more pain, more damage…

Megatron and the rest of the Decepticons are entertaining the Autobots on the other side of the compound, and fortunately none of the monsters expects a rescue mission after so much time gone, so they all spill out there to fight the attackers. The Decepticons retreat after a joor, sporting injuries aplenty but when the two Seekers join them, Thundercracker holding the emaciated, mangled, nearly unrecognizable frame gently in his arms, many of them stare in abject horror, swearing revenge.

Megatron speaks no words of anger or pain, his lipplates tighten into a single, hard line. He silently takes the sullied frame from the blue Seeker, cradling it gently in his arms while they return to the Nemesis, his optics dark with worry and care. They are nearly there when Starscream starts to squirm, onlining from his pained stasis and doesn’t know suddenly where he is. 

Megatron stops immediately, settling down to the ground, the rest of them spreading out around them forming a quick defense perimeter. They are in danger here, in the open, but calming the distraught Starscream is immeasurably more important than their safety. His trine-mates draw around, cradling his still chained servos gently, awaiting for him to online fully.

Starscream stirs, onlining from the pain-filled dreams into more pain, real now, and sees only darkness around. He is too weak to panic and the last, brutal interface tore something in his valve that drips energon in steady droplets. Moving therefore is out of question but he has to know where Skyfire is and what is he planning next. 

Focusing his working optic is hard in the darkness and his left audial conveys only a steady static, signalling heavy damage there. The right one though… he hears muffled sobs and gets worried. Has Skyfire brought in another prisoner? It wouldn’t be like the dark flier, but then who else would be crying? He certainly couldn’t do it aloud for vorns.

Lights flare up, moving around, blinding his straining optic and he sees shadows. Frames, in plural, all smaller than Skyfire… so he must have been offline longer than he thought and taken back to his cage. His chrono has been of course disabled, so he can’t tell how long time has gone since falling offline again.

The blindness passes slowly and the shapes gather substance, form and colours. Winged frames, blue and… nooooo, he must be dreaming of them, his trine-mates. A broken claw twitches, a mangled, chained servo lifts hesitantly, reaches towards the shapes, hoping against hope that they are real.

When it is taken and held gently, Starscream’s vent hitch. They can’t be real. No, it must be a dream. A good dream, he could enjoy it before onlining to the stark truth of what his life became. He feels the servo cradling his and it feels oh-so real… it makes another tear flow down from of his optics.

“Star? Can you… can you hear me?” 

The voice is insistent, hopeful and begging him. Why, Starscream cannot fathom, of course he hears it… and of course he cannot answer. He draws cracked, stained lips to a brittle, small smile and frowns. He should be able to speak in his dreams… shouldn’t he? But the wires spark silently in his neck when he tries and pain flares up again.

“Warp, no… look… his vocalizer…”

“Oh my Primus…!”

“He can’t…”

No… he doesn’t want to be mute in his dreams, Starscream panics. Is his life not bad enough? Why does he have to even dream of being tortured and mutilated …?

“I’m not sure he recognizes us… he doesn’t react at all.”

Pit, he recognizes them, of course. But what could he do with his dream-mates, his dream-colleagues, a dream-Megatron? 

“Star… we’ve rescued you. You are free.”

What? He doesn’t want to believe it. He’d dreamt of it at the first orns, the first groons, before he realized that no rescue could ever come into the center of the Autobot fortress, into Optimus Prime’s own vault-like rooms. Starscream thought that he gave up this fool’s dream, this useless yearning… it made onlining unbearable every time afterwards.

“He doesn’t believe us… I think.”

“Star… I’m sorry that we didn’t come before.” – he knows that deep, ember-warming voice. It makes his core ache deeply and not from the scars on it… – “We thought that you were deactivated. Laserbeak saw you in Skyfire’s quarters just a few joors ago… and we came as fast as we could.”

Starscream freezes. Not a single one of his dreams, his nightmares ever conformed to reality so closely. He looks around to the encircling frames, checks the surroundings. They look to be out in the open, the place as unlikely to dream about as it can be. 

He looks up to the worried optics of Megatron, the mech who holds him in his arms, his plating smeared with Starscream’s energon, the foul fluids on him… He is tense, anxious, imploring him to believe… and Starscream hesitantly lifts a servo to the silver plates, where the red insignia marks them, unable to lift his weak, trembling arm any further. He is real? Dare he believe it?

Starscream is confused and tired. He can’t decide whether to believe them to be real or they are just one more cruel dream to believe so. But he cannot struggle out of the embrace, whether it is really Megatron’s or he just mistakes Skyfire’s treacherous arms for his. It is a nice embrace anyway.

“He’s slipping back to offline.”

“Let’s take him to the med-bay. Repaired he might believe us better.”

Yes, Starscream thinks, repaired is a good idea, even if it is just a dream. But how can he slip into recharge when he is in recharge already? It is… illogical. But darkness claims him and he can think – or dream – no longer.

Megatron lifts his frail, broken frame and they continue to the Nemesis in a sad procession. Thundercracker and Skywarp stay close to him, not wanting to loose Starscream from their sight for a single nanoklik. Everyone stays close, wanting to have a glance on the Air Commander, to wish him well in their processors.

Hook had to put up with their presence even in the repair bay. When Starscream is put down on the berth, in the bright lights his injuries are terrifying and many. Hook literally has to search for a single place undamaged and eventually he gives up. He orders Scrapper to fabricate a full set of new armour for the Seeker and gets on removing the dirty, broken, sullied one. 

What he finds underneath, the state of his protoform sends the medic to the sink, purging his tanks. Skywarp long ago hid his helm into Thundercracker’s plating, unable to watch. Megatron watches on frozen like a statue, only the rage rising in his optics and his servos tighten to fists from time to time.

He had let the monstrous Prime go alive again, unable to end even that tainted, cruel ember. He is weak that way, Megatron knows, he wants to believe that there is something good in there, in every ember that Primus created. But seeing Starscream, the damage inflicted upon his frame, his processor… he is not sure any more. 

He had achingly, sadly, miserably came to accept that the one mech he ever felt more than friendship or camaraderie towards was captured and presumed deactivated by the Autobot monsters. They had lost many brothers in arms, many soldiers, friends, colleagues already… it didn’t seem fair to expend more effort for the one he felt closer than the others, to endanger his dedicated soldiers more. They did what they realistically could… but it was obviously not enough and Starscream suffered their inability heavily.

Megatron sees, feels, knows in his ember that it is entirely possible that Starscream would never heal from such trauma. Even if he would, he certainly wouldn’t want to have anything to do with the one who failed him so thoroughly. He gets to this point in his processor when Hook uncovers the abused, scarred ember, the weakly pulsing life-force of the one he loved… and Megatron can’t watch any more, staggers out of the repair bay and hides in his quarters. Hook works like an automaton, repairing, nearly rebuilding the Seeker.

Starscream onlines sluggishly from a very deep recharge that tells him that it lasted far longer than usual. Even through the lingering haze of the nightmare, in a dazed state he feels that he is better off than for a very long time. Has Skyfire repaired him even more? He doesn’t remember, his memories have a sudden break in the middle of a rape and only darkness after.

No, there was something else… yes, a dream. One of the useless, painful, good dreams that feels so bitter when he onlines. He fleetingly hopes that at least his trine-mates are alive, since he’s heard nothing about them from his master, who would certainly taunt him with their deactivation. Starscream clings to that little hope.

His optics online… both do and that is a truly pleasant surprise, and Starscream looks around, freeing himself from the haze of recharge but on looking around decides that he still must be dreaming. It is neither Skyfire’s cluttered rooms, nor his cage in Optimus Prime’s dark vault. It reminds him of his old room on the Nemesis, bar his datapad-heaps covering every surface. 

That it is not real is reinforced by the small movement of lifting his servo, easily, without the pain he is accustomed to, missing the chains’ weight on it and he sits up, looks over his frame… brilliant white and sparkling crimson, colours he had not sported for vorns, no chains, no energon leaking everywhere, no dirt and fluids sully him, no pain jags into his sensor-net… he groans in surprise and servos fly to his throat, optics widen in shock.

“Wha…”

He croaks, rasping and unintelligible, but it is still a sound he couldn’t make for vorns. And the whole thing feels less and less dream-like even to his confused processor. Could it be real what he remembers from the dark cycle? Starscream tries to stand but he is still weak, his knee-joints shake and he sinks back to the berth heavily. 

His tanks are half full and his repair nanites swarm all over his frame, instinct forcing him back to the berth, to give them the time they need to finish up repairs. He gladly gives into it to be whole and functional again.

Then the door slides away and Starscream tenses, learned instincts are making him scramble backwards, until the wall stops him, before he could see who it is.

“Ohh, Star…”

Skywarp’s voice is full of misery and tears as he sees the cowering frame in the corner. When they saw Laserbeak’s recording and then the reality itself on Starscream’s desecrated frame, they knew that it would take possibly vorns before he would be healed, before they could touch him, approach him without his freaking out.

As they step in the room, the shaking of the white plates strengthens, the blue optics flashes fear and expected pain. Starscream whimpers… and the sound strangely snaps him out of the terror, his optics widen. The trembling abates and a servo comes up to touch his throat in wonder.

“Star… you are fixed now…” Thundercracker tries to sound upbeat, reassuring. “You are rescued and safe here, on the Nemesis.”

“Yeah, it is over, Star!” Skywarp reaches out towards Starscream, hoping that he would react. He obviously doesn’t expect the strong flinch that greets his light touch and snatches his servo back fast.

“R-real…?”

The voice is cracked, brittle, barely whispering, coming from the newly installed vocalizer, unused to talking after so much time locked into the silence of his mind.

“Yes Star, we are real!”

Thundercracker yanks Skywarp back a bit and cautiously offers a servo out towards Starscream, letting him to reach out and touch if he wants to. Hook told them that he’d be afraid, suspicious and fearful and it wouldn’t dissipate for a long time. They had to be patient, careful and reassuring.

Starscream reaches out hesitantly, fearfully, optics flashing up to his faceplates, gauging his reaction. His fluttering gaze flickers from his helm to his servo, to Skywarp and back in a nervous cycle… Thundercracker holds out his servo palm up, inviting him to touch. When the repaired claws contact with his plating, he flinches back but the blue Seeker doesn’t move, doesn’t show his ember flipping painfully in its chamber… he holds his servo steady, nonthreatening, inviting.

Finally, Starscream touches him without jerking back and some sort of a barrier is broken. Tears course down on his face but he holds on to the light grey servo like it is a lifeline. Thundercracker lifts his other servo and with careful, patient slowness strokes the white plating of the arm gently.

Starscream shifts closer, his servo sliding over blue plating, reassuring himself of its realness, its solid existence. The blue Seeker moves his servo further, slowly sliding it over the flat of the wings. He is not sure of the emotion that brightens the tear-filled blue optics but it is not negative, so he continues to stroke the warm, white metal.

Starscream breaks down, leaning forward, arms coming up to cling to Thundercracker, to curl into his frame shaking. Skywarp cannot hold himself back either and comes up to Starscream’s side, sitting beside him on the berth and embrace him, crying as well. Thundercracker rocks his trine-leader a little, servos caressing lightly, carefully his trembling wings, willing to do it for as long as he needs.

“How… now?”

He still speaks hesitantly, like he is searching for every word and marveling that he hears it back aloud. 

“Laserbeak saw you accidentally… in Skyfire’s quarters. He never saw you before… Star, we are so sorry…”

Starscream hides his face hearing Skyfire’s designation and Thundercracker can feel the shame in his field, in the bond...

“No…please Star, don’t be ashamed! They tortured you, it is not your shame!”

“I… you saw… I obeyed them... let him…”

“No, don’t even think of blaming yourself!”

Thundercracker is dismayed. How to convince Starscream that they don’t blame him for wanting to stay alive? They all know the twisted, wretched games Autobots occasionally play with prisoners, setting them against each other, forcing them to do disgusting things for another orn of life, for a mouthful of energon… no, he doesn’t blame Starscream for what they saw on the recording, what he must have gone through during those vorns before.

He knows that there is such torture that would make him, Warp or any of them really to debase themselves like that. It is foolish to think that they are stronger than those monsters if captured, starved, glitched, reprogrammed, knowing that no rescue would come… Hook found and purged some truly nasty glitches and programs from Starscream’s core coding, that much they both know.

“You d-don’t unders-stand!” Starscream shrieks, the new vocalizer clicking in mid-word and rebooting with static and he struggles weakly in their embrace “I’m d-dirty! Weak! A… a whore…!”

Thundercracker holds him close and whispers back determinedly. “No, you are not. We love you and we don’t think so. It is not your fault, not your shame… it is theirs!”

Skywarp chimes in too. “Yeah. None of that slag. You are Starscream. Our Trine leader. And of course we love you.”

“I did t-things…” he still struggles, but the effort is weakening, the voice trailing away into shamed whispers. “You don’t know…”

Thundercracker struggles for a breem to dispel the mental pictures of Starscream with Optimus Pr… no, no, he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t need those pictures… he realizes that they must have bled through the trine-link, their intermingled fields from Starscream and he pushes back love, unconditional, deep, everlasting, to wash away those awful pictures, to convince him with something better than mere words.

Starscream is calmer now, he’s both accepted their reassurances somewhat and weakened enough still to not be able to struggle against their gentle force. He luxuriates in the acceptance and love though and marvels that the trine-link is open again, that he can feel his wingmates, their love that can’t be a lie, not through the bond…

The three Seekers cuddle together on the berth for joors, whispering sweet reassurances before Thundercracker remembers what Hook said and offers a cube to Starscream. It is bland, medical energon but he drinks it like the finest high-grade, like he wouldn’t get any more any time soon… which is exactly what goes through his processor, along with what he should… must do for the energon…no, Starscream decides, his trine won’t demand that, wouldn’t be so cruel as… Skyfire.

But hadn’t he thought the same about him as well?


	3. III.

Fire-red optic shutters open to a slit, its pair remaining dark, oozing energon, the crystal broken. The big mech lies on his front, broken arm strut caught under his own bulk, energon pooling around him on the floor. His frame is clawed and dented from the attack by the two Seekers who had pulled him off of Starscream’s frame by his wings, yelling and beating him continually, like madmechs. He could have done without the screams and the insults.

And without the kicks to his exposed spike, Skyfire winces hard as he attempts to stand. It isn’t easy with his build in the best of times, and with a broken arm strut and the pain that flames up from his crotch at every movement it is even harder, but eventually he manages it. Energon annoyingly drips into his working optic, making him blink and from the outside, the alarm klaxon wails its annoying sound into his audials.

It is the Decepticon attack claxon, he recognizes the signal and patches into the fortress’s defense computer to check the situation. But they are retreating already so there is no need for him to hurriedly join the other soldiers. He needs at least some repairs first anyway. He turns his helm around, observant glance sweeping around the rooms bathing in the day cycle lights. 

Starscream is gone.

Skyfire stands on shaking legs for a breem, thinking hard, then he’s comming First Aid. He intimidated the assistant medic long ago into giving him decent repairs and after a single threat the smaller mech scurries to his quarters to fix his injuries. While he works, Skyfire steels his slightly fluttering insides – only a fool isn’t afraid of Optimus Prime’s wrath – and contacts him, politely requesting a breem of his valuable time.

Through the comm it is just a tiny bit easier to report that the Prime’s favourite berth-toy was stolen, probably by Decepticons while he was incapacitated and the rest of the Autobots led on a merry chase. While Optimus Prime is murderously angry at the news, even he cannot strangle a mech through the comm line. Though his tone certainly tries. 

He is suspicious too of course, the Blackbird doesn’t expect anything else. Optimus Prime is suspicious of every single mech in his army and trusts not a single one of them. Rightfully so, because they would all gladly tear his ember out with or without the Matrix, has he given them the slightest sign of weakening. Okay, the Blackbird muses, he does trust somewhat in his bodyguard, Ironhide, but still.

Loyalty is an unknown concept in the Autobot army. But Optimus Prime cannot discount two things in this instance and Skyfire is counting heavily on both; that it is highly unlikely that his ferocious Air Commander would connive with the pansy Decepticon Seekers for any reason and that he is believed to be even less likely to give up Starscream than Optimus Prime himself – and that either of those things would happen after so much time. 

He is right in the first too; Skyfire is a dedicated Autobot to his very ember and would never defect or work together with Decepticons, even in the unlikely case they’d accept or trust him. Not even for Starscream, not for any mech or any ideal. The Autobot cause, methods and beliefs are fitting him like a second armour and he won’t give up his freedom to act his aggressive nature, for the worthless ideals and nonsense rubbish the Decepticons spout.

It makes Skyfire’s Autobot ember ashamed quite a bit that the second notion he is counting on Optimus Prime to believe is actually wrong. That he has enough useless feelings and softer emotions left in his ember to give up the Seeker… to let him live rather than to have him; and especially to watch the Prime have his way with him. They are weak, dangerous and worthless feelings that he had to get rid of.

So yes, while First Aid fixes his frame up, Skyfire muses, he’d let Starscream go, in fact he maneuvered the silly, idiotic Decepticons to manage to rescue him at last. It took them long enough. But no, he doesn’t want to be deactivated painfully and smelted alive for this act, for deliberately depriving the Prime of his pet, his toy, his berth-slave. Hence the plan, hence the time it took and he silently curses the Prime for every rape he put through his Starscream in the meanwhile.

Over the time, he managed to have a row with every officer and influential mechs and had to be finally moved out of the center of the fortress, out of the favour of the Prime, into quarters away from them and close to that little, hidden hole in the shielding he discovered accidentally. It cultivated his dangerous image as well as served a purpose. To have Starscream as a reward out here, where a spy in the vents might get a glance of him, because deeper in the fortress the vents are watched, the spies are inevitably caught and smelted for entertainment. 

To tempt that slagging spy to notice the bright lights spilling out in the middle of the dark cycle, to entice him to look in on him to see what he was planning, to have that small hole nearby through which a certain teleporter could warp in and out, to have him buried into Starscream’s valve till the hilt when they came so the pathetic wimps could actually overpower him for real, because Skyfire didn’t fool himself that his quarters weren’t under surveillance at all time, the perverted voyeur by the title of Security Director is watching every mechs’ carnal pleasures at all time… it all had to come together into one focal point, one perfect act, where it could succeed without making him look the culprit.

It did at the end and that single fact makes the black flier smile so frighteningly that First Aid actually steps back and had to be dragged back to finish the repairs. The small medic will attest that his wounds were real and deep, showing no subterfuge and the recording from surveillance cameras will show him to be a dedicated Autobot, enjoying the Seeker slave thoroughly as expected; and together with the lack of evidence otherwise Optimus Prime will only suspect him but not accuse.

He’ll still be punished, ohhh, Skyfire knows. But there is a great dividing line in the Autobot army that all mechs are painfully aware of; which lies between being punished and being deactivated. Skyfire firmly wants to fall to this side of it and he will. He’ll live… and Starscream will live too. What the Seeker sees in that weakling Megatron, the black flier cannot fathom and truthfully he doesn’t even want to contemplate it – but his Star will live and fly again. 

He had hurt him, many times and badly and Skyfire knows that Starscream will never forgive him what he did. If he recovers. Nor will he ever know his efforts and the risks he took to let him be rescued. He doesn’t expect either, in fact it is better if the Decepticons think him a monster and not reveal his act of treason even accidentally.

He feels no guilt for his actions. Starscream chose the path of weaklings and peaceniks and that path includes being taken advantage of if he is caught. He feels it no different from the time he enticed his shy partner into games that the Seeker thought roleplaying and kinky at the time, under the pretense of love and whatnot. If anything, Skyfire is glad that he doesn’t have to do the courting and time-consuming trappings to get what he wants – a tight valve and an obedient mouth around him and no constraints to use his strength. 

But unfortunately he cannot have Starscream by his side – or rather underneath his bulk or between his thighs where he looks the best - because he is no slagging goody-goody Decepticon and never will be; while Starscream can only be a pet, a slave for the Prime in the Autobot army which he had to see for vorns… so if he can’t have the Seeker the way he wants him to be, then he should at least fly free of anyone else’s grasp. The Seeker by this time is probably ruined far too much to ever dare to get intimate with that accursed Decepticon leader, so Skyfire could safely let him go.

The Blackbird feels that he owed him this much for… for the memory of love that he pretended for so long, it nearly felt real. He refuses to admit that it was in any actuality, love. That would mean complications he does not want to face with or solve. No, it was just simple lust from his part, the perfect sub for his dominance, a plaything he liked so much, he pretended some feelings for. Only Starscream saw it as love and he’d let the Seeker fool himself.

He shakes the disturbing thoughts off, locks down and hides firmly the many files containing his activities with Starscream before and after the war started as he leaves his quarters. He needs all his cunning, every favour he’s owned called in and the best arguments his processor could provide to survive the next few orns with as little as he could get away with. Skyfire plans what to do and say on the way and at the end draws a last, deep invent and asks for permission to enter Optimus Prime’s quarters.


	4. IV.

It takes five orns before Starscream onlines without cowering from his trine-mates’ touch in terror. He realizes quickly who they are but it makes for some ember-breaking onlining for all of them. More than a decaorn goes by before he believes that he can drink energon whenever he wants to and doesn’t have to wait for Thundercracker or Skywarp to give him a cube. It doesn’t help that they tell him so, it doesn’t help that they leave the cubes on the table – he just stares at them with hungry optics and doesn’t take one. 

He barely speaks up either and when he does it is a whisper only, like he’s afraid that any louder would be punished. The new vocalizer integrates nicely and he can speak now without the rasp, but he still speaks slow, like searching for every word and waiting to see how it is received. Skywarp’s occasional louder outbursts frighten him still, to the point where Thundercracker considers locking out his trine-mate aside from recharging with them.

That, he allows, even needs. The three Seekers recharge cuddled tightly together every dark cycle, Starscream safely in the middle, sandwiched between their warm frames, holding onto them like they are his lifelines. He feels safe there, protected and warm… but his recharge is still fraught with fluxes heavily. Hook says that they will go on for vorns, albeit hopefully with a decreasing frequency.

The Seekers know now, that when the white frame start shaking, the wings clatter and his vocalizer emits little, choked sounds, then they must online at once, whisper him reassurances, tell him who they are several times before he calms, caress his wings but never let the touches stray any lower than those… and if nothing else helps, they had to shake him online and let him cry in choked sobs, burrowed into their plating.

It is breaking their embers to see, hear and feel all that twisted slag he murmurs in his dreams, but they valiantly care for him every dark cycle. The days are if possible, even worse, because Starscream hardly does anything. He has yet to leave his room and gives no indication that he wishes to do so. He is not interested in datapads, games or entertainment, only sits, clings to either or both of them and shakes silently. 

Thundercracker tries to tell him things, events, what happened while he was… gone, Skywarp tries to entertain him with stories, anecdotes and jokes… but he just stares back and hesitantly nods when a story is finished, like he doesn’t know what to do but believes that he’s expected to react in some way. It is like his processor is not working at all, though Hook swears that he eradicated all the bugs, the glitches and the malicious little codes lurking in there.

He is stronger now, able to stand and walk around the room on his own and when Thundercracker mentions flying cautiously, an unreadable emotion flashes in the blue optics. White wings spread wide for the first time since he is back, a tiny measure of his old confidence, the pride of the best flier, the fastest Seeker... and he nods, begging optics on the blue Seeker.

They encourage him to leave the room, assuring him that he doesn’t have to face with the others yet, that Skywarp would take them outside to fly in a nanoklik. Emotions flicker on his faceplates, a chaotic mixture of fear, longing, insecurity and shame… but he agrees hesitantly and Skywarp teleports them to the outside.

They stand outside, the day cycle lightening up the skies, the air crisp with only a faint tinge of the everpresent fumes. Starscream stares up to the multicoloured sky and tears trickle from his optics. His wings flare up, the rebuilt sensors hungrily drink in the data that tells him freedom, air, the sky… Thundercracker strokes the trembling appendages to calm him, that motion is their best tool to affect him positively. 

“Come.” - Skywarp looks uncharacteristically serious as he reaches for Starscream’s servos. – “Let’s fly.”

They transform and take off, shifting into ages old formation, bracketing Starscream from both sides, just a bit closer than usual, their fields just a bit more cautious, caring, protecting than before… but they fly. Nothing fancy, just in a straight line, just to give a chance for the white wings to stretch, to feel the wind on the leading edge, the feed the information of their surroundings to the wing-sensors, to acclimatize him again to be in the air.

Starscream loses altitude, drifting downwards, faltering for a few kliks… but then he sweeps up, confidence regained, albeit still in that straight line. They don’t talk, the other two let him be, let him enjoy it, to rediscover their true calling. He turns and rolls suddenly, nearly surprising them with the move and Thundercracker feels that some kind of an ice was broken again, some measure of the old Starscream recovered too.

The maneuvers turn more complex, demanding, elaborate and they follow him wordlessly, silently exulting in the fact that the Trine is whole again, that its leader is back in front of them. He pushes himself now, puts this mostly new frame through everything he could think of and some he shouldn’t.

“Star… be careful. You’re still healing.”

Thundercracker knows that Hook will glower and grumble when they return, if Starscream pushes too far and stresses a repair-weld or blows a fuse. He knows that he will worry endlessly if something hinders Starscream’s healing. But he also knows that simply by flying his trine-leader heals more mentally than it endangers his frame, so he doesn’t object and worry. Much.

When they return, they see more life in the blue optics than ever since Starscream was rescued, so Thundercracker judges it as a success. They return to their quarters the same way they came, Skywarp taking them straight there. That dark cycle is the first when he has no bad recharge fluxes, when his wings flutter and angle in a way reminiscent of flying and not shake with fear.

A decaorns later they convince him to meet with the other Decepticons, who eagerly wait for the chance to see him again. The impromptu party they throw when he finally dares to go out, with his trine-mates on his sides starts out promisingly. Starscream is anxious and tense but mechs understand his need for space and only a few forgets the warnings and touch him.

He is struggling with fear and mistrust but no mech blames him for it. They take it as it comes and try to reassure him of their love and care. They all make huge efforts to accommodate and it pays off in the long term, reinforcing the cohesion within the small group. 

Starscream slowly heals over the next orns, his will to live returns and he is more active now, tentatively seeking out his former pastimes, reading, thinking of a lab again, watches movies and entertainment with his wingmates. But then, after they think he is going to be fine, he turns restless, sitting on the berth for joors, watching the door, like waiting for someone. Someone, who doesn’t come and Starscream’s mood, his emotions, his rebuilding confidence take a downward turn again, after starting to heal.

Megatron invents a new excuse every orn not to visit the recovering Seeker. This orn he needs to check the Insecticons, on the next he’s caught up in strategy planning or do his own maintenance and such. Deep down he believes that Starscream must think that he betrayed him, left him there to suffer and gave up on him. He must blame Megatron for not ordering any more rescue missions, not freeing him from the living Pit. So, he is grumbling, hiding and blaming himself, avoiding welcoming Starscream back.

Even as Starscream heals, he is still blaming himself and believes that Starscream does not want him, that affection and love died in the cruel fire of torture and rape. It takes an exasperated Soundwave and a furious Thundercracker to disabuse the mech of his misconceptions with no uncertain words and push him bodily into Starscream’s room. They lock the door behind him and let the two work out their issues. 

Miracles unfortunately don’t happen so fast and far too soon Megatron orders them to unlock the door before he shoots it down. Starscream has not warmed up and fallen into his embrace and Megatron is still stiff and uncomfortable when they part. But at least they speak now and neither hides from the other any more and that’s a start. They have time now to work out the rest.


	5. V.

Skyfire pants with the lashes of the whip as they lay liquid fire on his already tattered and quickly fraying back and wings. He doesn’t beg and he doesn’t whimper; screaming is completely out of question. He is an Autobot and takes his punishment like one. True, Optimus Prime was a lot more furious than he’d expected, but the Air Commander is not accused with collaborating with the Decepticons, just… just with being weak enough to loose the Lord’s pet. 

It is a shameful stigma to be overpowered by two Decepticon Seekers and Optimus Prime is not interested in extenuating circumstances, like Skyfire being in the middle of an interface. Skyfire doesn’t want to compound it by showing even more weakness, like giving voice to the pain that’s just begun.

Because by Primus there is pain. Sunstreaker is a veritable monster who stands out even among the Autobots, able to cause immense suffering in a bot and he is going all out on the luckless Air Commander… who hopes to retain that title when he gets out of the feared torture chambers. But it is a bit farther away just yet, as he is only here for a joor and his punishment has hardly began. 

Ironhide stares disdaining into his red optics from his easy stance by the door and Skyfire looks back defiant from his position, kneeling with spread legs on hard, cold, stone floor that has a strange sheen to it, from being drenched in so many fluids over the vorns. His arms are drawn up, taut over his helm, chained to the unseen ceiling, his wings forcibly spread to provide more surfaces for the whip. 

Skyfire does not fear the Prime’s bodyguard any more than he fears the yellow sadist behind him and he won’t be intimidated just by the mech glowering at him angrily, channeling the Prime’s mood like the obedient, tamed cyberwolf that he is. If the mech hopes to intimidate him into submission by just that, then he is quite mistaken and wrong. Skyfire sneers at him, sure in the knowledge that it is not the bodyguard who eventually decides his fate.

At an unseen signal, the mech moves closer, taking another energon whip from the wall. It crackles with purple energies, menacing and dangerous, just like its pair, currently making a painful mess of his back plating. Ironhide crackles it over his cockpit and Skyfire grimaces, showing fangs. Of course they know just what is the most sensitive on his frame. No matter the reinforced armour, the special covers, the efforts to reduce his weak spots - he is still a flier, meaning he has wings endowed richly with sensors and a fragging, sensitive canopy. 

He suddenly remembers Starscream’s trembling lips sliding on that glass just a joor ago, where the whip is drawing now its burning, agonizing scar. It is a queer memory, mixing pleasure into the pain he is receiving and he revels in the chaotic sensations. He vastly prefers causing the pain but right now, right this way it is not even objectionable. In a way it is fitting to cleanse the soft, weak touches with harsh pain, like removing that weakness from his frame.

Still, he keeps feeling that soft touch, like it got caught in a loop within his sensory net. Skyfire wonders for a fleeting nanoklik about why it does that, long dormant scientific protocols awaken for a klik to ponder on the problem, even as he is jerking in his bonds with the pain from the outside. It must have been caused by the forced merge, he thinks, it is not like he’s done any research or exploration for megavorns. He is a warrior now, his past as a scientist is long behind him. Starscream is behind him, for Pit’s sake!

That merge of embers… it was unplanned. Skyfire knows that though Optimus Prime never outright forbade it to his mechs, he frowned upon their use of the Seeker’s ember. It does have its dangers on those who have less strong wills that himself, of forming attachments… or in the big flier’s case reawakening such. Like the love he thought to be buried, cold, forgotten and a lie anyway. But he wanted it once more before letting Starscream go, wanted to revel in the soft, helpless energies of the Seeker one last time, gorge himself on the defenseless ember.

He squashes the softer thoughts ruthlessly, even though Autobots have no telepaths living among them, so no mech who could sense the unworthy emotion in him, the hidden, denied compassion for the smaller flier. No need to invite danger, he thinks, the Prime is frightfully able to draw uncanny conclusions from nearly nothing, thanks to that dark Matrix he carries. As he locks away his ponderings, Skyfire’s processor returns to the cell and the pain mangling his front and back.

The whip is just used to soften up his plating and processor, Skyfire knows, he’s done the same with innumerable mechs, captured Decepticons as well as punished Autobots, the fliers under his command. His real punishment will start when the Prime comes in the torture chamber with those dark, burning optics and the cloud of fury around him, taking out on his plating all that he intended to lavish on Starscream’s that dark cycle… and some more.

It will start with meticulously peeled away plating and acids, molten metals, shock-rods and a dozen other nasty things applied to bare, vulnerable sensors and internals. It will culminate in rapes in any sick, perverted form the Prime can devise it and those two sadists could implement until their stamina lasts. Skyfire doesn’t look forward to it all, but he will bear it as well as he can.

After all, no good deed goes unpunished.


	6. VI.

Starscream anxiously waits in the repair bay for his friends to return. Although over a groon is gone, Megatron still doesn’t let him take part in any actual fighting and Hook backs him up fully, despite the Seeker insisting that he is healed and therefore he should contribute to the war efforts. Starscream is frustrated outwards but inwardly he is dreading to face the Autobots still, so he protests only with moderation and stays on the Nemesis.

He works in the labs instead, throwing his pent-up energies into creating weapons and needed devices to help the Decepticon cause. During and after battles and skirmishes, he helps out Hook in the repair bay, putting his scientific knowledge to use by assisting the medic. He is here now, awaiting the others to return from a battle. A bad battle with casualties and heavy injuries, if the frantic comms were anything to go by… he worries as they wait and the mechs explode into the bay, carrying the wounded and the quiet anxiousness is exchanged for chaotic work.

“TC, TC, stop moving, you’ll make the wound worse!”

Skywarp is dripping energon from his own wing and limps a bit but carries the struggling, blue Seeker in, laying him hurriedly on a repair berth. Starscream runs over to them, dread growing in him as he sees the huge, charred hole in the abdomen of his blue wingmate and the broken cockpit above it. Skywarp is nearly drenched in his own and his wingmate’s energon, looking at them helplessly, begging, imploring them to fix it.

“Hook! Here!” – Starscream shouts and the crane scrambles over, swearing as he, too sees the wound, diving into it without any further words. 

Starscream steps back, letting him work and quickly seals the smaller hole in Skywarp’s wing, to stop him loosing any more energon.

“Thanks, Star…”

But Skywarp’s stare is on his blue wingmate, worried a Hook continues to swear. Starscream lends a servo to the medic as ordered, stemming the energon flow deep within the ragged hole while the crane reconnects important wires. Dread grows in his ember, because he recognizes the weapon that caused the charred injury on the blue plating. Skyfire’s trademark ion blaster is second in firepower only to Optimus Prime’s – only the two largest Autobots are able to wield such powerful weapons. 

He desperately tries to stop the trembling in his servo at the thought. So far he tried and more or less managed to forget his former lover, tormentor and rapist and what he did to the Seeker… but deep down he now dreads that this injury is not accidental. True, Thundercracker is acting Air Commander now and so he meets the enemy fliers fairly often, but this wound seems to be far too deliberate. He throws a glance to Skywarp and the teleporter looks back with begging optics.

“He’ll recover, Sky…”

Starscream whispers as Hook’s movements became calmer, his hurried gestures slow down and he stops swearing. The inside of the wound is not sparking dangerously any more and they stopped the energon flow as well. The medic is yanking out charred circuits now, snapping the new ones into place with deft digits – but he looks concentrated now instead of frantic, so the Seekers dare to hope too.

“It was… him.” – Skywarp whispers in a small voice before he could think – “…went after TC deliberately…”

Starscream yanks his servos out of the wound because he cannot squash the trembling now and he doesn’t want to cause further damage. Shaking, he stares at the wound but sees the situation, the images flow through the trine-bond from Skywarp. It is the first time he can see the Blackbird since he is freed and the malice, the intent, the ruthless drive to destroy those who are close to Starscream is practically written into those burning red optics. Starscream trembles and contemplates running, hiding… but he doesn’t know where to. 

Hook glances up, obviously hearing the whisper too. He straightens up, looks at Starscream who is ready to bolt or break down, glances at the guilty-looking teleporter; grimaces and points to Skywarp’s pede, where the turbine looks deformed, like he’s landed in acid. 

“Skywarp! Go and have that cleaned before we do anything with it.”

The teleporter looks sheepishly to the medic, worriedly to Thundercracker and apologetically to Starscream before leaving in a flash.

“Starscream… Star! I need you here. Can you concentrate? For TC.”

Starscream takes a deep invent and ruthlessly stops the thread that is making loops in his processor with Skyfire, Thundercracker and the injury. He shakes once more, wings clattering behind him and slowly nods, stepping back to where Hook quietly directs him. TC needs him, the others need him. He’ll deal with his problem later. He steadies his servo and grabs the welder that Hook hands him.

A few joors later, when the frantic work in the repair bay dies down, he stands at Thundercracker’s side again. The hole is patched, the internals underneath repaired and his self-healing finishes up the rest while he recharges. The weld-lines barely even show where the wound was. Starscream’s digit slowly follows the faint outline on the scratched blue plates and he is deep in his thoughts once more…

_They were flying together, Starscream attempting the most difficult maneuvers that he knew, to see how far he can push his repaired frame, his trine and their bond. They were tired but happy to see that their coordination is flawless, that they could still fly the way they used to._

_The Autobot fliers, who turned up then were the Aerialbots. The most bumbling of Autobots that no mech really understood how they survived so long in there. Probably their apparent and obvious idiocy made every Decepticon disregard them as a threat and every other Autobot to exploit them as servants, underlings, berth-toys and expendable troops. The Decepticon Seekers usually avoid engaging them outside battles, but taunts, insults and verbal jabs often ensue when they meet…_

_They do that now as the Trine and three fliers of the gestalt circle warily each other in the dark skies. The Aerialbots have dirty mouths and much empty bravado, probably to make up for the humiliation they get within their on army. Although they never directly dealt with Starscream during his captivity, they saw enough to taunt the Seeker…_

_“Little Con slut, do you miss the Prime’s spike?”_

_“Bet he does! He sucked it so enthusiastically…”_

_“Yeah, couldn’t get enough of it ever!”_

_“Couldn’t get enough spike ever. Even Silverbolt had him once.”_

_Raucous laughter erupts in the public comm channels and the jeering continues in that vein for breems. Thundercracker explodes first, shouting at them enraged while Starscream turns and flies home. He doesn’t care about being called weak or coward, but the dirty innuendos and outright debasement is too much._

_“Guys, you know what? He must pine for the Air Commander’s spike more. I heard he’s the last Autobot who stuck it into him.”_

_Starscream wobbles slightly in the air, his wingmates protectively drawing close to him. But they can’t silence the public comm, as it is audible until they are within range. Thundercracker continues to try and out-yell them, unsuccessfully. Starscream just feels tired and worn._

_“TC, let’s go home. They aren’t worth it.”_

_“Is he your new owner? Do you lick his spike now?”_

_“Ohhh, Decepticreeps in love! Bet they even snuggle!”_

_“Bye slut! We’ll tell the Air Commander who you frag now! He’ll love it!”_

He knew then that it wasn’t the end of it. Whatever the Aerialbots told Skyfire he took it as a personal insult and awoke his jealousy. Starscream doesn’t remember what TC shouted, but then he tried to forget the whole thing afterwards. But he knows one thing with the certainty rarely felt; Thundercracker’s injury, the near fatal wound was not an accident, it was deliberate.

Skyfire is after his wingmates.

Starscream forces himself to remember further back, before the war, no matter how painful it is. Skyfire… well, he felt it was obsessive worrying and protecting back then, but now he sees it with a clearer optic; the bigger flier was jealous of his friends, the few Starscream had, of his Trine and anyone he perceived as courting or flirting the Seeker. On occasions it went to the extremes too, with Skyfire physically frightening away that little scientist from Tarn, just because he brought Starscream a cube of expensive high-grade, to thank his contribution in his thesis.

Thank Primus, his wingmates were away most of the time, because Starscream sees it now, had they interfaced the way they used to casually do, Skyfire would have done… he is not sure what, but something truly bad. And now, the Blackbird believes that they are… that TC… ohhh Primus…

Starscream holds his helm with suddenly heavy servos, a scarred, painfully tight ember is throbbing in his chamber and he is close to screaming. Is it never gonna end? What can he do? It is impossible to keep his wingmates from the battlefields, they are not that many to afford to miss two of the strongest fliers. Starscream himself feels shamed a bit that he is still not yet ready to face them, that his superior flying is not helping the Decepticons. 

Especially as they actively hunt for the Autobots now, wanting to hurt them in a way they never did before. They don’t say anything, but Starscream feels it through the trine-bond, that it is personal for them now, that they want revenge for… for what happened to him. So he endangers them now in both ways… Starscream groans, wings drooping behind him as he sees no way out of this predicament. 

So now that he is safe, it is everyone else around him who is in danger. Starscream wallows in his misery for a few breems before he realizes that it doesn’t solve anything. He needs to come up with a solution. Preferably before Skyfire manages to deactivate his wingmates or any mech else. His wings tremble at the thought.

What he doesn’t know is that a few doors away from the med-bay, Megatron, Soundwave and Skywarp discuss the very same thing. Neither of them is unobservant, in fact they see Skyfire’s descent into madness better than Starscream. The Autobot flier has never been fair in battles, but lately he became outright vicious, and his targets are more than obvious. Thundercracker, Skywarp and Megatron himself. This latest injury is just the most serious so far.

It is not that hard to come up with the cause either. Soundwave doesn’t mince words.

“Dude won’t stop until he reaches his goal. Mad as a hatter and spirals deeper down into it every orn. He wants to see you and you and TC dead.”

“But why?” – Skywarp just doesn’t get it – “I mean why now? It’s not like anything changed with us.”

“Because of Star.” – Megatron thinks that he understands and that’s the main reason Starscream is not here with them planning. – “Skyfire probably wants him back and believes us to be his protectors. Remove us from around him and he’s vulnerable again. Right?”

Soundwave nods his helm to an unheard rhythm but shakes it hearing Megatron’s question.

“Not completely, I think. He is jealous, I betcha. Of you.”

“B-but… he doesn’t… uhh feel anything for Star still… does he? What he did… no, I can’t believe that.”

“Dude is mad, I tell ya. Don’t ask it to be logical.”

“He probably doesn’t feel anything like… care, but I think he feels possessive. So in consequence… jealous.”

That, at least Skywarp can understand. He remembers the Skyfire before the war, who always wanted to capitalize Star’s time when they visited them and resented them spending time with their trine-leader, even though they could go so rarely. With the madness they can see in him, the Seeker can believe that turning into an unhealthy jealousy.

“We have to protect those he targets…” – Megatron tries to say but Soundwave interrupts him.

“Won’t work, dude. Ya can’t keep half the army back here, the rest would be easy pickings for the Autobots.” 

Soundwave is uncharacteristically serious and that alone tells the other two how important he thinks the problem is.

“Then… what? I can’t believe that we can do nothing?”

“Kill ‘im. Solves all sortsa problems we have. Not only Star’s but their fliers are pathetic without him holding them together.”

“But…”

“Yeah, mech, I know… _‘we’re not Autobots’_ and all that slag. Do your ideals worth the lives of Star, TC, Warp… or you? He won’t give up! So he must be stopped… before he stops us.”

Soundwave pokes a digit into Megatron’s plating, ignoring the scowl. He is an easygoing mech for frag’s sake and never wanted to kill any mech, but when it is them or the Autobot, he thinks that the choice is easy. Or it should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note1: I'm sure I didn't do justice to SG!Soundwave's way of talking. Sorry about that! :-)
> 
> Note2: To me it is obvious that in a war you try to kill your enemy and not only if he caused something really bad. But Transformers is a kids' show and so it has this idea with one side always being so noble as to try to win a war without casualties, and I can't be realistic in this. Hence the last part, where they decide after much soul-searching what should have been obvious from the first second: that this Skyfire has to be killed.


	7. VII.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: before anyone starts to feel sorry for the Aerialbots, in SG they too are ‘bad guys’. They are not nice, funny and cute youngsters; here, they are weak, idiotic and bumbling backstabbers who think far more of themselves than what they worth. Their only Autobot value is Superion, and individually all the Autobots and Skyfire as their Air Commander, despise them. Also, they are not younglings! (I’d shudder to imagine actual younglings in the SG!Autobot army)

**Warning: violence and non/dub-con, but not detailed. Major character death.**

 

Skyfire drops the dented and energon-dripping Slingshot to the ground, the obnoxious flier is quite out of it now, so there is no point in beating him any more. He turns his burning optics towards the cowering Air Raid, the smaller jet whimpering at the dreaded attention. He doesn’t dare to bolt, he knows that if he does, eventually it would be even worse. But he shuffles backwards until the wall stops him. 

“P-p-please…”

“Pathetic…”

Skyfire snarls at the coward, disgusted by the meek begging. And these wimps dare to call Starscream weak? The Seeker is a good many things in Skyfire’s processor and on occasions even he had called the red and white Seeker weak, like when he begged for other captive’s lives; but to hear these idiots who dare to call themselves fliers insult Starscream thus and worse… it was more than the Air Commander’s self-control could take. 

Silverbolt was not with them, the large tetrajet the only flier amongst them having a little more worth because of his size and because he is able to hold back his unruly and blabbermouth team from insulting somemech they shouldn’t. Fireflight was planted face first into the wall at the first nanoklik the Blackbird fell on them, the glitched idiot spouting so foul insults toward the Decepticon Seekers that it disgusted Skyfire thoroughly. He knows that the damaged processor of the black and red flier probably doesn’t understand even half of what he is saying, but it is still more than he wishes to hear.

Skydive, the slimy bastard disappeared from the common room of the fortress, slinking away sometime while Skyfire was dealing with Slingshot, the cowardly jet leaving his supposed brothers in the trouble without a second thought. For all that they are a gestalt, there is no love lost among them, nor any loyalty. 

Skyfire grabs Air Raid’s neck and easily lifts the smaller flier up by it, shaking him to stop the annoying blabber. As he punches him a few times and the black wings jerk painfully, a sudden realization descends into his processor. Though the mostly black plating makes him look radically different, the jet’s build is nearly identical to Starscream’s.

Skyfire stares at the trembling form, ignoring the frightful red flash in the optics, seeing only what his processor wants to. Big servo follow the shaking outlines of the wings, the shoulder vents, the helm vents where a pair of wide, frightened optics are trying to follow his moves. His touch is nearly gentle now, not quite caressing but close enough – not hurting for one. Air Raid is understandably confused – it is rare enough that anyone touches him so nicely, much less the feared Blackbird…

But the touches don’t stay gentle for long. The grip on the wingtip tightens, the metal squeals and Air Raid whimpers as he realizes the look in Skyfire’s optics. He very much wants to be someplace else now, but Skyfire holds him tight, pins him into the wall with his bulk. The black pelvic plate rubs harshly on his own, the big flier is leaning forward to take his mouth in a demanding, biting, hurting kiss.

Air Raid is a fool but even he knows why he’s so often singled out from his brothers and curse Starscream inwardly, curse his own frame to be similar to the Seeker’s, curse his cowardly gestalt-mates who left him in the situation and curse Silverbolt for never standing up to the Air Commander. He hates this attention, he hates the interface, even more than the ones from other Autobots. They, at least frag him for who he is and not instead of a slagging Con…

But Air Raid knows that the Blackbird is far stronger than him and far more cunning too. He can’t do anything against the larger flier, not even all of them could. Superion might, but the combiner’s slow processor has long been _taught_ to never harm any of the Autobots. But Air Raid is as tenacious as he is a fool. He doesn’t give up his quest to one orn cause the Air Commander’s demise even as he submits to the unwanted attention. In this, he is a good Autobot.

But he is barely able to stand when the Blackbird is done with him and drops his defiled frame by the wall. Leaning on Slingshot, while supporting him as well, they limp together towards the repair bay to cadge some repairs from any of the medics. They gather up the still offline Fireflight and the often seen procession slowly makes its way to the dreaded medbay.

Ratchet is in a rare good mood and consequently amused by the often seen spectacle as well. The idiots always get themselves into trouble and Skyfire always reacts the same way to their runaway mouths. Why they can’t learn to escape in time like Skydive or not be found like Silverbolt, the medic cannot fathom. But it gives him even more leverage on them, so he doesn’t complain. The medic likes taking winged frames, it is no secret among the Autobot army.

Only, this time the alarm sounds just as he finishes with the fliers’ repairs, before he could have his _fun_ with them. He growls angrily, but the situation can’t be helped. At his frustrated wave, the Aerialbots run from his bay like the Unmaker is on their heels. For once they are actually glad to have a battle; on the battlefield they can feel that they actually worth something and right now it means that they don’t have to pay Ratchet the only value they have: their frames.

Superion has little in way of thoughts. It is mostly just shoot, catch, kill and the like; the giant has never been very intelligent and the experiments on its processor definitely made him as dumb as a sack of bolts. The individual processors of the Aerialbots are submerged when he’s online and retain only the smallest control over their individual frames. Battle tactics are decided by the Prime or Prowl anyway and the giant listens to their orders, given in the simplest way they can. Skyfire is in command of them only when they fly individually, which is why they silently appreciate in being combined.

This time it is Superion’s job to deal with the Conehead Seekers who bother Prowl uncharacteristically, the tactician annoyed by the cautious, but boldening attacks. The faster fliers make passes overhead and around, peppering them with fire, bothering the Autobot SIC and circling Superion cautiously, using their speed against the mammoth combiner’s slower strength. They can’t seriously harm the gestalt, but Superion can’t catch them either, so it is an impasse.

That is, until a sonic boom rattles the huge frame and it slowly turns, observing the culprit, easily suppressing the slight damage that the boom caused. Thundercracker dives low, rolls to his side and flies between his legs, surprising the seriously limited processor and Superion freezes for a nanoklik. It is enough to see a larger, sleek, black frame dive dangerously after the blue Seeker’s tailfin but by the time he gets close enough Superion already lifts a huge leg to move and the crash is unavoidable.

The explosion tears off the leg that is Skydive and his pained scream echoes in the gestalt mind. But the Blackbird is even worse off from the head-on collision with a wall of metal and his mangled frame crashes into the ground with a heavy thud. Thundercracker is long gone by this time but the Air Commander has other problems; the giant combiner teeters on one leg for a few eternally long klik, nearly regaining its balance… when Air Raid viciously exerts all control that he still has remaining, lunges his weight sidewise and makes them slowly, ponderously fall onto the already damaged, mangled frame of Skyfire. Air Raid is yelling madly but victoriously within the giant’s meta, completely ignoring his own, slight injuries.

What little the crash and the explosion left intact, being violently buried under several times his weight finishes off completely. Skyfire struggles, or rather twitches weakly, his HUD madly scrolls with uncountable damage reports, all vying for his attention, he leaks energon in a worrying rate, he can’t move anything because of structural damage and the whole combiner’s weight burying him, pressing him into the energon-soaked ground, suffocating his vents, closing off the light… Skyfire is as prone to claustrophobia as all fliers and in the situation he can barely contain his panic.

For the first time in his function, Skyfire feels in mortal danger and survival takes precedence over everything. But Superion doesn’t move from over him and his injuries are serious enough to be fatal if he doesn’t get repairs fast. His comm is damaged, his vocalizer is squashed enough to be inoperational and he STILL CANNOT MOVE! A silent, wordless scream tears from his processor but the vocalizer sparks only and remains silent.

Skyfire tries to heave off the larger frame from over him, but the weight is too much, his damages are too much and he is powerless underneath the bulk. Seeing his predicament, hysterical laughter bubbles up in his fragmenting meta as he contemplates his situation and finds the parallels almost funny. So this is how Starscream must have felt under him, mute and helpless. It only misses the giant’s spike in his valve – and Skyfire knows that Superion has one, ohhh, he knows it well. 

All around him enclosing, huge metal walls creak and groan, fire burns, heat increases and energon drips. Every little sound echoes hugely in the enclosed space… or is it in his processor? The damage reports cut out, return flooded with unintelligible glyphs and cut out again, the screen flickering into staticky patches. His sensors fail one by one, curiously leaving his hearing for last. His sensory net or what remained of it in the crash looses nodes in a fast rate, leaving his frame mostly numb – but he knows that there is heavy, dangerous damage, despite the disappearing pain signals.

He feels the outside world dimly only by the time the weight over him lessens, as Superion comes apart into his components. Silverbolt was damaged in the crash as well as Skydive, but the other three stands around, Air Raid is loudly and foolishly exulting at the sight in front of him and the others look satisfied, nearly happy too. Skyfire is seeing them through a darkening haze and wants to sneer at their gloating expressions – but he is slipping away fast and still unable to move anything.

Then another sonic boom scatters and throws the Aerialbots to the ground and with a purple flash Skywarp lands on the black, metallic heap that is still Skyfire, intentionally grinding the metal into the ground. The Blackbird is clearly heavily damaged – but he still functions and Skywarp remembers Soundwave’s sentence clearly: _‘he must be stopped… before he stops us’_. He remembers the huge hole in Thundercracker’s chest and he remembers Starscream when he was rescued, the atrocities done to him, the nightmares that they’ll never forget… and he fires into the exposed, cracked chamber in front of him, extinguishing the cruel ember within.

Skyfire feels his spark exploding, feels his world narrowing down to a single point, a single, broken thought: _too late…_ and then darkness descends.


End file.
